


The Nature of Love

by shadowshrike



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Bittersweet, Gen, Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, Invisible Kingdom | Revelation Route, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 04:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17460437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowshrike/pseuds/shadowshrike
Summary: He would call it duty, but love is what drives him during the final days of their war. An exploration of Xander's fondness for family lost, friends, and country through the machinations of Anankos and the intervention of those closest to him.





	The Nature of Love

**Author's Note:**

> A ranks are assumed for both Laslow and Kaze. You could read their relationship(s) as romantic if you squint, but it's really focused on the depths of platonic love and the different ways it can be expressed. Also more Kaze centric than Laslow centric because it's me.
> 
> The Cost of the Crown, which has the most perfect lyrics for Xander, inspired most of this fic: https://youtu.be/MMbbbopeVfc

_"The royal circlet of bright gold rests lightly on my brow,_  
_I once thought only of the rights this circlet would endow._  
_But once I took the crown to which I had been schooled and bred,_  
_I found it heavy on the heart, though light upon the head."_

_~ The Cost of the Crown, Mercedes Lackey_

* * *

 

Another fledgling map of Valla made useless as the earth shifted beneath their feet again, rebuilding some ancient roads as others vanished from existence just like the denizens of this place. After the first week, Nohr and Hoshido's troops had almost grown used to the constant shaking, invisible enemies, and ever-changing scenery that wafted the scent of death from its crumbling ruins. They told themselves there was nothing to fear with the royal families close at hand. Tenuous allies the two countries might have been, but the princes always knew the best action to take. As long as they were certain of the way, their men would follow them to the ends of the world - or beneath it, as the case may be.

Ryoma and Xander were dependable. Wise. Unstoppable. To follow them as they aided their little brother was to ensure victory for the world.

So appearances must be kept.

Xander’s inkpot trembled precariously on the edge of his desk, the violent tremor threatening to soil the map he now had to redraw to finish planning tomorrow’s raid. In a fit of frustration, he nearly threw the ink over it himself.

Another waste of his precious time, deep in the territory of an enemy he didn’t understand nor know how to fight. Staying so long in the cramped quarters of a nomadic army under constant siege was starting to take its toll on the crown prince’s stoicism. They needed to resolve this matter, and soon. Lack of good sleep was already nipping at his temper, and if someone as accustomed to impossible demands as he felt the strain of this strange place, much of the army must have been near collapse.

“You should rest your hands, Prince Xander,” a gentle voice called from the floor. “Your form is growing rough.”

The prince released the tension in the fingers of his writing hand. He’d been gripping the quill so tightly that his perfect lettering smudged and scratched at the edges, dripping with irritation. “You know as well as I there is no time for rest now. Another map must be drawn, another plan proposed, and I yet have other duties to complete before bed.”

“Forgive me for speaking out of turn, but the only duty which matters is that you remain well enough to lead. Neither Lord Corrin nor Lord Ryoma can do this on their own,” Kaze chastised. An ill mood bled through his typically placid demeanor.

Kaze raised gracefully from a seated position that Xander was certain would have made his own legs numb and useless as a fawn’s in under fifteen minutes. The ninja had been sitting that way for over an hour, staying at hand in case of urgent orders from Xander while Laslow and Peri oversaw other duties to the Nohrian troops.

The crown prince thought to argue with Kaze’s sentiment, even lash out and demand he remember his place next to royalty, but ultimately, even with fear of the unknown and failing his family bristling under his skin, Xander’s rationality won out. It would serve no one to burn bridges for the sake of his pride. Not when getting Kaze to speak with such frankness to royalty, to him, had been a hard won battle in the first place.

Xander set down his quill.

“You speak wisely, as always, my friend,” he said, flexing tired fingers. “I am loathe to admit this may be beyond my abilities to carry on.”

Kaze bowed, hand over his heart. “Then please, let me assist you. I am well-versed in the art of reconnaissance and map-making. Let your mind and body rest, while I mark what has changed. Although I am not as skilled as the crown prince, I believe my work will be adequate.”

“Your work is always more than adequate.” It was an old argument, now more comfortable routine than a true dispute.

A hint of a teasing smile, the first good humor either of them had shown in days, countered his statement. “And Prince Xander is too generous with his praise, as always.”

“Go then,” Xander commanded, extending the map to his companion, who took it with another small bow. “I know your swiftness well. Do not keep me waiting.”

He knew the ninja would catch the worried undercurrent beneath those harsh words. _Please come back safely before I have time to consider whether you’ll make it back at all._

“Do not fear. I will return before the hour has passed. May your reprieve be rejuvenating,” Kaze replied. Orders set, he vanished from the tent before Xander could move.

The matter of his map was as good as resolved. Kaze was nothing if not dependable, and took his orders from Nohrian royalty as seriously as the Hoshidans he had served for the majority of his life.

When this war was over, Xander would be sure to recommend him for promotion by King Ryoma. Not that he knew what further promotion a master ninja might have beyond retainer to the white throne, but Kaze clearly deserved recognition that had been sorely lacking in his life. A culture of modesty and penance was not a good enough excuse to forstall Kaze’s accolades further. Where the other Hoshidan warriors Xander had met overflowed with pride in their bladework, Kaze responded with cool, emotionless steel, competent yet resigned to lesserness.

In Kaze's disparaging words towards himself, Xander saw a vision of what might have been were his own fate not sealed as the firstborn. If Xander had been the second son, he would have rested comfortably in his elder sibling’s shadow. The weak one, less suited to Nohrian princehood, all freely aware of his shortcomings.

But a crown prince could not be weak. He’d heard the maids whisper it when he was young - a useless boy like him had no business leading Nohr, and it would be best to end his suffering before his mother became too attached. So Xander bound all those doubts of his worthiness behind lock and key as he fought to fill the destiny prescribed to him. For the sake of Nohr, Xander would become as untouchable as his father.

(Festering and ready to burst like a can too long spoiled Nyx would say.)

Ah, but Kaze’s heart was so much stronger than his. He might have spoken like a man less consequential than a worm beneath a soldier’s boot, but he fought like a gale, so confident in his nature that doubt seemed unfathomable to him. That drive had captured the crown prince’s imagination the first day they met, blossoming into fondness over time. He had never seen anything like it, even among royalty.

The resilience of the Kaze’s spirit inspired awe. To be captured, likely tortured, and sentenced to die, yet accept it was only a consequence of circumstance rather than malice was something Xander had thought only monks would be capable of. Not so. Whether due to the blood on his own hands or the certainty of his life’s purpose, Kaze’s forgiveness for the suffering he’d endured at Nohr’s behest was so absolute that at times, the crown prince forgot the manner of their first meeting. He wondered how often, even now, his friend saw King Garon’s cruel eyes glowering down at him when he looked up at the crown prince.

There was no use dwelling on it. Kaze valued his own pain so little and royalty’s so greatly, he would never admit to it.

For now, all Xander could do was take his friend’s suggestion to lay down for an hour. Peri cooking meals at the mess hall and Laslow securing the perimeter would take at least that long. He had intended to relieve them both of duty once they returned, anyway. Even their boundless, often childish, enthusiasm for following Xander's orders had been dampened by the bleak atmosphere in Valla.

These Vallite ghosts did not bleed, a fact that had been good for their equipment but damaging to Peri’s enthusiasm for battle. She pouted after their march most days, a muted sadness clinging to her as she asked when they would be leaving this place. And Valla being a dead land meant no beautiful ladies in town to ogle, causing Laslow’s smiles to grow tired and hollow not long after jumping into the canyon. More often than not, he spent his evenings working diligently until the dead of night, melancholy his only companion. Xander never thought he would be disappointed to see his retainers not causing complaints.

Although he was proud to have such loyal servants, both heedless of their own needs before the good of him and the army, that meant it fell to Xander to care for them. He hoped a free night to gamble and socialize would do them both some good. Meanwhile, their prince would rest in secret, if only for a few extra moments.

Xander hadn’t realized how tired he was until his head hit the pillow. His shoulders felt as though a wyvern had perched on them from hours bent over a map, and his hip ached where a spear had tagged him through his armor in a battle two days ago. An angry bruise had blossomed across the point where skin was tightest over bone. It wasn’t enough to keep him from fighting, and certainly not enough to demand any of their precious healing supplies, but it had been keeping him up at night.

Xander grumbled and rolled to his other side to relieve the pain. There were few things more trying to an ill mood than craving sleep with all his being, yet finding it ripped from his grasp due to a sore limb or racing mind. If only the risk of ambush wasn't so high, he would down a sleeping draught without hesitation. Anything to make the throb of his overworked body go away.

He tossed again to his back, groaning as the thought of his pain brought it back full force, and offered up a silent prayer.

 _Please_ , Xander beseeched whatever gods may not have forsaken him in this strange kingdom, _please let me find a dreamless sleep for a while. I vow to return to my duties when I wake. A small reprieve, that is all I ask._

 _“Oh, my darling boy...you've worked too hard since I left you,”_ came a melodic answer to his plea.

He knew that voice. It haunted his dreams on the bad nights, an echo of an innocent childhood he strained to hold onto.

Had he already fallen asleep? Xander opened his eyes to see the tent still around him. Everything was in its place as before, without any hint of unreality twisting the edges. Perhaps he was hallucinating from being overtired - not a comforting thought.

Either way, there was no one in his tent that Xander could see from his prone position. He tugged Siegfried closer to the bed with one exhausted hand and shut his eyes again. Maybe he needed to keep his retainers close at hand after all, gods forgive him.

_“Please don't ignore me. I've waited so long to see you again. I've missed you, son. Your brothers and sisters are here with me. Won't you come outside?”_

Xander bolted upright, Siegfried half-drawn. It was unmistakable this time. That voice - his mother’s voice - whispering in his ear, though there was no one in his room.

 _Of course there wasn’t_ , he scolded his imagination. Queen Katerina had died years ago.

“ _Xander, please, won’t you come outside…?_ ” it beseeched again, Katerina's voice rattling inside the prince's brain. _“I want to see you.”_

Of course - Xander should have realized it sooner. Valla’s tricks.

It wouldn’t be the first time one of them had seen or heard a deceased relative since coming into this cursed place, and every encounter had ended in heavy casualties for their company. No doubt their foe - this Anankos - had decided to target the Crown Prince next, playing on his yearning for those long gone to draw his army into a battle they weren’t prepared for.

Then Xander would have to bait a trap of his own first.

Anankos relied on the emotional frailty of his targets; striking when their loneliness overrode their sense. He would find no such weakness in Nohr’s crown prince. Every day, Xander lived with the guilt of those he had lost - his mother, his siblings, his soldiers, his people. Every day, he swore himself to be a stronger warrior, a more attentive brother, and a better prince to prevent more ends like theirs. He would not dishonor their deaths by allowing a dragon’s puppet to assume their place in his heart.

No, he would strike with cunning and without risking the lives of his men. When this siren lured him close with promises of a mother’s loving embrace, he’d drive Siegfried through the imposter’s heart. No alarms, no guards taking another double shift, and no one to bear witness to Xander’s sins. No one need know this ever transpired. If Kaze questioned why he had not slept later, he could claim restlessness; it was truth enough. He would have to move quickly, though, if he wanted to beat the ninja back.

Rolling out of bed with Siegfried still in hand, Xander murmured into the tent, “Mother…? Is that really you…?”

“ _Yes! Yes, it’s me. Oh, my little prince, I never wanted this life for you. So troubled. So alone. Please, won’t you let me see you again and ease your pain_?”

Ease his pain. As if he hadn’t heard that euphemism for executing someone every week in Nohr. Still, Xander played along, clenching his teeth as though fighting an internal battle. “You’re dead. I was at your funeral. Father mourned for years. All of Nohr mourned. You being here is impossible...”

_“But I am, Xander. I’ve been waiting for you. We all have. All you have to do is step outside and you can be with us. We love you so much, my son - won’t you come to the edge of camp and rest with us a little while? You must be so tired from fighting your family’s wars...”_

The deaths caused by his hand came rushing to the forefront of Xander's mind. He saw them all, the bodies of friends and foes alike, lifeless as their blood watered Nohr's decrepit fields. There was no joy in being crown prince during war. Nothing but hopeless exhaustion, ignored for the sake of duty.

“...I am tired,” he confessed to the empty room. Thank the gods there was no one there to witness the sincerity of his words. “Fine. I will meet with you, spectre. But if you are not who you say you are, I will not hesitate to strike you down.”

_“What a brave, strong man my little lion cub has become. Hurry - your family can’t wait to see you again.”_

Putting further introspection from his mind until this task was done, Xander sheathed Siegfried and affixed it to his hip. He felt safer with it close. It would be best to go out fully armed, not knowing exactly what Anankos had in store, but putting on his full suit of ebony plate would take almost a quarter hour.

Xander shook his head with a silent grimace, grabbing bracers and greaves to quickly cover his forearms and shins. That would have to be enough. He didn’t have the time for more if he wanted to be back before anyone noticed.

The prince shivered as a stiff evening breeze greeted him outside his tent. He hated the nights in this place. Nohr’s darkness chilled the body, but Valla’s chilled the soul, like his bones had turned to icicles with frigid points trying to burst from his skin. It seemed the turbulent sky warring overhead knew every evil he had committed, every life taken for king and country, every lie told to spare a little suffering.

Maybe it wasn’t just his imagination. Anankos’ home was filled with the dead, after all, dead who carried with them all the grudges of their life - or death. It would be enough to drive anyone mad.

As Xander marched off to meet the twisted echo of his mother, each footstep closer squeezed this heart a little harder. Above, the stars watched in judgment Xander was not ready to face. He remembered them looking much the same the night his mother passed away a boy. They cursed him for his powerlessness. For his hand in her death. This must have been part of Anankos’ plan, too. To make him remember; to relieve the guilt of…

No. There would be time to think on it later. Just as when he faced the Rainbow Sage, he must not waver in his resolve.

Thankfully, the possessed shell of his mother did not keep him waiting. Xander found her right where she had promised, a small horde of children hiding behind her voluminous dress.

Gods above, she was radiant. The paintings on Krakenberg’s grounds and Xander’s own faded memory hardly did her justice. Golden curls cascaded down proud shoulders, ones fit to carry the troubles of an entire nation with ease. Xander remembered that father used to say her eyes were the color of wyvern’s blood and red wine, a phrase he had never understood until now. The two vermillion irises that fixed upon him were fierce yet welcoming, like a warrior returning home before they’d had a chance to clean their sword. She did not waver as he came closer, spreading her arms to shield the children beneath her sleeves as much as invite Xander to her.

This was no sheltered princess. She was a queen, radiant and fearsome, yet also a mother, kind and warm. A protector to all under her care.

Xander suddenly understood why everyone who had known them both said he took after his mother.

She smiled and beckoned to him. _“Come here, my handsome boy. Let me see how you’ve grown,”_ she said, though he could not tell if the words left her lips or simply appeared in his head.

He cautiously edged closer, wondering when she would strike. He didn’t see any weapons on her, but draconic magic could transform everything in the span of a single breath. Katerina smiled and beckoned again. He took a step, then another, then a score more until he was only an arm’s length away.

Her arms moved to encircle him and Xander jolted back, out of reach.

The late queen frowned delicately - something Xander dimly noted he hadn’t inherited from her - and dropped her outstretched hands. _“Oh Xander...has your father not held you all these years? I know how he can get about family matters, but I didn’t expect him to neglect you like this. You used to love my embrace - there’s no need to fear it.”_

“I am an adult now, mother, and much stronger than I used to be,” Xander replied tersely. “I do not have a need for these displays anymore.”

_“You even sound like him now. My how much you’ve grown…I never thought my son would become a leader of men like this.”_

Old resentment that Xander thought he’d outgrown flared, burning the prince’s throat. His own mother had not believed in his abilities. Even now, getting a second chance to see her again ( _a recreation of her_ , he sternly remembered), the only one he could rely on was himself.

His scowl turned thunderous. “I had no choice. Nohr needed a competent crown prince to end father’s...attempts. It was tearing our family and country apart.” He glanced meaningfully at a strawberry-haired girl who peeked out from behind Katerina to study him.

“ _Don’t be cross with me,”_ Katerina admonished, tucking the girl back out of reach. _“I only meant that I am proud of how far you’ve come. You were such a timid boy - I feared you would never be able to wield Siegfried, and your father...you know how important it was to him. I am sorry that his quest to find love again after my death caused you so much grief. Had I known I would lose you both, I never would have risked having a second child.”_

Images of concerned midwives funneling in and out of her room flashed in Xander’s mind. Worry creased their faces and blood smeared on their hastily wiped aprons, their eyes full of fear as they spoke to his father. Xander peeked over the book he’d stopped reading hours ago when the king began yelling. They had said this was a happy occasion, so why was everyone so upset?

Xander shook his head sharply to dispel the memory.

“It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known. In a way, I should be grateful - the experience gave me the push I needed to grow into the man I am now, a man that Nohr needs,” he said.

Katerina’s laugh was like warm tea on a chilly morning as she replied, _“You really are your father’s son. He was always so focused on improving himself for the good of the country. It was one of the things I loved and hated most about him.”_

“Hated?”

_“A man only has so much devotion to give. He loved with all his heart, but he could never pledge himself equally to family and country. Something you should remember, little prince, if you still wish to follow in his footsteps.”_

That much Xander knew; it was why he’d refused to take a queen, or even a lover, though he was well past the acceptable age for marriage. Every time he looked at a beautiful body and his own ached with arousal, he remembered the chaos father’s search for love sewed. The broken hearts, the broken people. He could not do the same. If he was unable to commit his whole self to someone, Xander refused to seek comfort in them - to need love but be unable to give it in return would only bring disaster. Isolation had proven a far more amenable companion thus far, and he hoped it could last much longer still.

“It won’t be a problem,” Xander assured her, shifting his weight to stand even taller. “Now, was there anything else you wished to discuss? I still have matters to attend to this evening.”

She smiled again, this time as though looking at a kitten with an injured paw who couldn’t understand why it was hurting. A irritated growl brewed in the prince’s chest. How patronizing. He wasn’t a undersized boy anymore, unable to fend for himself.

 _“I’m so sorry, son,”_ she murmured, a hand to her heart like his words had wounded her. _“You must be so lonely. It doesn’t need to be that way, anymore...not now that I’ve found you.”_

“I assure you, I’m well enough,” Xander bit back. His hand fell down to rest on Siegfried’s pommel; something was electrifying the air in a way he didn’t trust.

 _“Don’t lie to your mother. You’re so lonely and afraid...no one cares for you like you deserve. But I can make it better. We all can,”_ she answered, extending a hand to him. He took a half step back.

“I told you, I am well. If that is all, I'll be on my way. Do not lay a hand on me,” he warned as the ominous feeling grew stronger.

Katerina’s benevolent face suddenly twisted in anger. She lunged, and the prince barely managed to sidestep her charge.

 _“How dare you reject me? I’m your mother! You belong with your family, ungrateful brat! You are supposed to be one of us...you are supposed to serve like we do!”_ she screeched at him.

Xander reeled at the completeness of the change and steeled himself in the same blink. This was what he’d been waiting for - the madness. Whatever controlling magic Anankos used, rejection of his offers usually triggered a violent response. Right now, that left a woman who looked like Xander’s late mother clawing for his throat.

At least there was one thing to be grateful for. Cutting down family was always easier when they were trying to kill him.

Siegfried pulsed with dark energy as he drew it, slicing cleanly across the woman’s chest when she tried to pounce a second time. A single cut to end a life; that was the Nohrian bladework he had worked so hard to perfect. The queen-shaped beast wailed in one voice with the children still hiding behind her and collapsed to the stone, lifeless. Xander prodded the body to make sure there was no fight still in her - for one of Anankos’ minions, that had been much simpler than anticipated.

Satisfied that she was truly gone, Xander sighed and returned Siegfried to its sheath, ignoring the sobs of the 'children’ Anankos' had summoned to weaken his resolve. He had known it would come to this, but that didn’t make looking down upon the empty body of his mother any more palatable. No matter how many times he witnessed the tragedy of death, his heart ached for the lost. It remained his greatest failing.

Perhaps just this once, the prince didn’t need to bear witness to the aftermath of his grisly duty. Xander turned and stepped away from the depressing scene, eager to return to his tent and put this from his mind.

Something tugged at his ankle, stopping him.

Glancing back, Xander saw his mother’s hand weakly clutching at him. One eye was open, clear from the malevolence pouring out only moments before. Her chest heaved.

“ _Thank you...my son...for freeing my memory_ ,” she croaked between wheezing breaths. He tried to focus on her words and not the purplish blood gushing from the cut he had made. _“I love you... little prince...but you need...to...ru...r...run…!”_

His brow furrowed. A response formed on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t utter it, even as her body expired for a second and final time.

_Run? From what?_

A bloodcurdling roar tore through his thoughts. Too late. The _thing_ Anankos had created was already towering over him where his young brothers and sisters had been before - a monstrous beast with the sound of a dozen children screaming within its cries. A fist swung down to grind the prince into the ruins.

Throwing up his guard, Xander grunted as its blow hammered against his blade. The knuckles made a sickening crunch of bone against metal, stopped short of crushing him, but the barbed chains on its wrist kept moving. Xander clenched his jaw as they made a clean slice into his unprotected shoulder. There would be no hiding that wound.

For that matter, there would be no hiding his corpse if he didn’t get his bearings, and quickly.

Glaring into its mask and shoving back against the creature’s inhuman strength, Xander left a sizable gash in its fist, already advancing for another strike. His defensive style would be of no use against something this powerful without his armor. It didn’t matter. He was the crown prince of a nation of survivors - he could not fall here.

Xander called to the draconic blood roaring with pride inside him to set his divine blade alight. In return, the monster screeched, its voice a chorus of terrified screams, and favored the knuckles he had parried. Purple liquid dribbled from the wound and evaporated into the ether before it could touch the ground.

Capitalizing on its hesitation, Xander lunged to drive Siegfried into the beast’s heart. He would end this match before it had a chance to strike a second time. It wailed again, paralyzed by fear, and Xander was sure he had won. Then, just as the blade tip touched its chest, an uninjured hand flew out to slap Siegfried away in an uncoordinated attempt to save its wretched life. Xander almost toppled over as his thrust was knocked shy of its heart, leaving a deep gash but not enough to kill. So close.

The prince pulled back back for another strike, this one sure to be the killing blow, but Siegfried refused to move. He tugged again - the beast howled in pain and pulled its hands to its chest, dragging Xander with them.

Shit. The idiotic thing managed to lodge the blade through its palm.

Xander tugged ferociously at Siegfried’s hilt, trying to tear it through, or at least get enough leverage to rip it free. With every pull, the creature screamed loudly enough to make his ears ring. It flailed wildly in its pain, jostling Xander with it as he strained to hold on. Behind the adrenaline, he could feel the blisters forming on his hands and his shoulders straining to stay in their sockets. He wouldn’t be able to do this much longer.

Survive. Survive. He’d be able to survive if only he could…

Bone crunched as Siegfried finally won its battle against the monster’s palm. Triumphant, Xander yanked his blade free with a mighty grunt.

Or rather, he tried to.

Enraged from breaking another bone, the beast flung its hand out, sending both Xander and Siegfried hurtling against unyielding stone. They bounced. It charged. Panicked and without a weapon, Xander tried to scramble to his feet but hissed in pain, falling back to a knee.

He couldn’t stand. His injured hip had broken his fall, rendering it useless. Surely even Arthur didn’t have luck this cursed.

“Lord Xander!” a desperate shout echoed across the empty ruins, followed by light footsteps approaching at a full sprint. Nothing like daily practice keeping up with a liege on horseback to make a man quick on his feet.

The creature turned from its prey to face the interloper, but it was too slow to match the liquid ferocity of Nohr’s premier duelist. A strike to the throat, a twirl under its arm and another thrust through its heart was all it took to finish what Xander had started. The beast collapsed to the ground between retainer and liege, fading from existence as its life force vaporized before their eyes in puffs of purple smoke.

“Lord Xander - Lord Xander, are you alright?” Laslow demanded to know, all grace forgotten in a mad dash to kneel beside his prince.

“Peace, Laslow.” Xander held up a hand to calm his retainer. “My hip and shoulder are injured, but I’ll survive thanks to your good timing. You did well today.”

He must have appeared worse than he thought because instead of preening at rare praise from his liege-lord, Laslow frowned and tried to get a better look at his wounds. Concerned eyes assessed the damage, glancing over the battlefield in an attempt to piece together what had happened. No matter how many times he saw it, Xander still found this side of his retainer strange. It was what made Laslow exceptional at his job, but this calculating, jaded personality was a far cry from the cheerful fop he liked to play for the ladies (whether or not they liked it in return).

“You look wretched,” Laslow observed flatly, arms crossed.

Xander pierced him with a glare sharper than Siegfried. Truth or not, it was not his retainer’s place to say such things.

As if the prince’s ill mood had suddenly reminded him of his station, Laslow gave a skittish smile and hurried to amend his statement, “Ah...hah...that is, you look like your injuries won’t allow you to move easily, milord. I’ll fetch Lady Elise for you immediately.”

“No.”

Laslow froze, already half-turned from his prince. “Milord?”

“Just take me back to my tent.” Xander fought to stand again and Laslow scurried beneath the shoulder of his weak side to help him stay upright. “No one is to know of this.”

An uneasy frown killed Laslow’s cheerful demeanor, the pair hobbling back towards camp. “Milord, I respect your wishes, but I really think…”

“My order is final, Laslow.”

And that was the end of it. His retainer huffed but dropped the subject, knowing that arguing further was only likely to land him in trouble. He was no doubt silently cursing his lord’s name with every step.

But Laslow never was very good at staying silent. In fact, they only made it two dozen more paces before he started up another line of questioning. “May I know what happened? It’s my duty to protect you, and I almost failed today.”

Xander thought to lie - no doubt Laslow would never forgive him for facing the enemy alone. He still remembered the tongue-lashing he’d gotten from his last retainers when he snuck off to attempt the Rainbow Sage’s trails without them. Laslow wasn’t one to scold often, in part because he was usually on the receiving end of any lectures being given, but he’d always been vocal about Xander going off without him. For whatever reason, the man was exceptionally attached to his liege.

 _If only his ability to take my advice to heart reflected that_ , Xander lamented.

In the end, respect for that loyalty inspired Xander to utter the truth, “...I heard my mother while I was alone in my tent this evening. Assuming it was a trap by Anankos, I set out to ambush our enemy without alerting the exhausted guard. Although I was able to take out Anankos’ recreation of Queen Katerina easily, I wasn’t expecting a second monster.”

“You...had to kill your mother?”

Xander shook his head. “A beast that looked and sounded like her. My real mother died in childbirth when I was very young.”

“...That doesn’t make it easier...”

The knowing way in which he said it made Xander glance over at his retainer. Laslow's gaze was fixed somewhere in the distance with faintly furrowed brows, as though remembering someone a long ways away or lost a long time ago. Xander instinctively knew it was not his place to pry. The closer they got to Anankos, the more Xander felt like he saw his true retainer, but he was beginning to wonder if that was a good thing.

“Regardless,” Xander continued, giving Laslow a chance to pull his thoughts back to the present. “My aim in doing this was to protect the army from unnecessary unrest. Morale is already low. If word gets out that the crown prince is injured, we may never make it into the palace.”

“...I understand, Milord. But even if you hide the cuts and bruises, you can’t fight like this,” Laslow protested.

Gesturing to the tent to indicate his retainer needed to open it for him, Xander agreed, “You’re correct. I can’t.”

As Laslow held the entrance flap open for him, he glanced over his shoulder, thankful for once that Xander set up so far on the fringes of camp in search of quiet for his work. At least there wouldn’t be rumors floating around from someone spotting them. “Then you have a plan for healing without magic or medics? Your injuries are severe enough that I don’t think a vulnerary from your personal stock will fix the problem.”

“That is why we will need help from someone who knows medicines. But, to preserve morale, it needs to be someone who can be trusted to not breathe a word about it to another soul,” Xander said, limping into his room. He nodded at the man patiently waiting for him inside, kneeling on the floor in a respectful bow. “I trust you heard all of that, Kaze?”

Laslow trotted in behind his Lord, starting when he saw the ninja there, “Kaze? You’re done with your map already?”

Kaze bowed his head shallowly to the retainer, “Yes, Sir Laslow. It’s on Prince Xander’s desk as requested.” He returned his attention to Xander. If he was alarmed by the crown prince’s struggle to get into bed, he didn’t show it more than a discontent frown. “And to answer you, Prince Xander - I will assist you with your injuries however I can. Let me know who I need to bring and I swear they will arrive without anyone knowing.”

“Milord, why not Lady Elise? I know you refused earlier, but surely she could keep this a secret if you told her…” Laslow started.

“Not Elise.”

The retainer swallowed down the rest of his sentence. “Then...perhaps one of the maids could…”

“Anyone from Nohr is a potential liability,” Xander interjected. He snatched a knife from under his bed began working it through the remaining fabric of his damaged sleeve. Laslow was immediately at his side, helping him shuck his armor and peel clothing away from the gash on his shoulder. “Marching into unknown enemy territory after seeing their leader in such a state would shake the most stalwart soldier. Even you were not intended to see me like this, Laslow, though I appreciate your timely intervention.”

“Of course. I’ll always be by your side when you need me!” the retainer chirped, giving a cheeky wink.

Laslow shifted away from the bed to hunt for a water basin to cleanse the wound - keeping it clean until they could locate a medic who fit Xander’s strict criteria was essential - only to find Kaze holding one, already filled and draped with a towel, in his outstretched hands.

Laslow yelped. “When did you…? I mean, ah, thank you, Kaze.”

“My apologies for startling you, but I assumed you would need this when you had finished divesting the prince of his outer layers.” The ninja didn’t move from his genuflected position when Laslow took the tools from him.

Starting at the edges of Xander’s wounds, the retainer began to dab away the dried blood, apologizing whenever the prince’s lips tightened in repressed pain. For all the mess, it had clotted fine. A small blessing. Now that adrenaline wasn’t coursing through him, Xander doubted he’d be able to lift anything with that arm for a few days without treatment, and definitely wouldn’t be able to wield a sword, much less Siegfried. Between his shoulder and his hip, he’d be lucky if he could even make it through tomorrow’s war meetings.

“So…” Laslow began again once he’d rung out the cloth twice. “If we can’t have a Nohrian treat you, then Princess Sakura would be the next logical choice.”

Xander hummed, “That is worth considering. It would help solidify our relationship with Hoshido’s royalty during this uneasy alliance, and she seems the most amenable to Nohrians among their family, even if I make her uncomfortable. The only question is whether she could be trusted to keep this secret from her retainers and siblings.”

“They will know regardless,” Kaze warned. He wasn’t looking at Xander, but at the fists balled over his thighs. “Any business of Hoshidan royalty is also the business of Hoshidan ninja. A report would be made within the hour to Lord Ryoma, and I guarantee he would have questions for you.”

Laslow groaned, tossing the dirty rag back into the basin with a small splash. “Then what option do we have? Finding a random Hoshidan priestess and hoping she won’t talk?”

“I will do it.”

Retainer and liege turned as one to stare at Kaze. The ninja still hadn’t lifted his head.

“No offense, but you aren’t exactly a healer,” Laslow laughed.

Shaking his head, Kaze replied, “No, I am not, but I believe I can mend Prince Xander, if you will let me try.”

“How?”

Kaze remained silent. Laslow asked again, but the ninja’s eyes remained firmly downcast.

There was only one reason Xander could imagine for him being so reticent: a ninja secret. If that were true, not only would Kaze be risking his life administering this treatment to a Nohrian (nevermind Nohrian royalty), but he was likely in violation of Igasato’s code by even telling them he had the ability. It wasn’t something that could be spoken of in mixed company.

Xander waved his hand, gesturing for his retainer to leave the tent. “Laslow, stand guard. Make sure we are not disturbed. And if Peri arrives, tell her she’s been dismissed for the day.”

“You’re allowing it? But you don’t even know what kind of healing he’s offering,” Laslow objected.

The prince’s eyes hardened to flecks of garnet. “I trust him with my life. If he can do as he says, this is the best option.”

Xander watched as Laslow ground his jaw, chewing on more complaints like sour cud. It was difficult to entrust your liege, in essence your life, to someone that you barely knew. He liked Kaze. Admired him, even. Was happy to see him help Xander when Laslow could not. But even if Kaze was the most likeable and trustworthy man in the army, this situation was too delicate for Laslow to feel comfortable leaving the room. He’d already almost failed Xander once this evening.

Regardless of his feelings, Xander’s will was final. Sporting a weak smile, Laslow answered, “Of course, Lord Xander. I will be just outside if you need me.”

Only once the tent flap had been securely tied behind him, did Xander glance back at Kaze. He was busying himself by removing the basin and dirtied cloths in preparation for whatever technique he planned to use. The ninja didn’t breathe another word as he worked. His fair features were drawn tight and his eyes narrowed in concentration, as though rubbing out a spot of blood from a rag was the most challenging task he had faced all week.

Xander broke the silence for him, “I will not ask you the details of what you are about to do. However, there is one thing I must know before I consent to your care.”

Kaze locked eyes with the prince, sharp as Hoshidan steel. His hands stopped their mindless fussing. “I will answer, if I can.”

“Should Saizo learn what transpired here, what will your punishment be?”

“I will be put to death.” He answered easily, as if commenting on something no more exceptional than the passing of a bird overheard. “This treatment exists for use only by the Hoshidan royal family. No one else may know of its existence.”

A grimace crawled over Xander’s face again, more angered now than in pain. He caught Kaze’s hand as it reached out to prepare his shoulder. “If the price is your life, I would rather risk the discomfort of Nohr’s soldiers. Healing a scratch caused by my own poor decisions is not worth that cost.”

“Prince Xander, you spoke wisely when you worried over the morale of the troops. There is unrest spreading, and though Lord Corrin is the official leader of this army, everyone looks to you and Lord Ryoma for strength.” Kaze relaxed the hand still held tight by its wrist, so that his fingertips grazed the prince’s chest. “My life is inconsequential next to the success of the war we wage. You know this is true. Even if I am found out and executed, I would be honored to do it in service to your mission.”

Xander’s grip tightened to the edge of painful. “I do not wish to risk sacrificing you. Not if there is another way. You should not pay for my mistake.”

For a moment, Kaze didn’t answer, holding the prince’s furious gaze in that unfathomable, fearless way only he could manage. Then his head fell, messy bangs obscuring his eyes.

“Do you remember how I told you that my motivation had changed when you asked how I was so driven in battle?” he murmured, so low that Xander would have missed it had he not seen the man’s lips move.

“I do. I remember you saying that being around my brother taught you it is easier to give your life for a person than a country.”

“Yes,” Kaze confirmed. He paused again, the silence between them heavy in a way Xander couldn’t understand. “The truth is...the truth is, I believe you have become that person, too. You are wise and kind. Thoughtful and courageous. You treat me, a lowly ninja who was once a sworn enemy, as a brother.

“I have spent my life searching for purpose. I have chased atonement for a mistake that could never be forgiven in the halls of Castle Shirasagi, finding nothing but empty service to lords who would never be my own. But you never cared about my past. You never demanded anything of me. You taught, though I was not your kin. You listened, though I had no right to bend your ear. You learned, though I thought I had nothing to teach you. So...if I could die, knowing that I served a man like you, I would die without regrets.”

Xander’s hand fell back to the bed. For all the ninja’s weapons, his words remained the most deadly in his arsenal. Xander could feel his heart dealt a fatal blow, as certain as a blade buried in his breast.

No physical wound would ever compare to this pain. It had lived with Xander every day since he donned his first circlet, doubled at the start of this cursed war, and again when he lost his first retainers. The burden of a leader. A king. Knowing that the love of those he trusted most would only bring them suffering. Rewarding their loyalty with death. Watching them proudly plunge into the fire because they believed in Xander’s conviction, going so far as to make the choice themselves so their prince would not be plagued by guilt for ordering the demise of someone precious.

To deny Kaze now would be to spit on his devotion. No matter how the threat of loss tore at Xander’s heart, he could never do that dishonor to his friend.

The prince sighed, “Very well. I will not refuse your aid. But know this: you have earned the favor of Nohr’s crown prince today. Although my country may never know the nature of your service, I will not allow you to die so easily.”

Kaze’s palm flattened against his chest, offering up a comforting smile. “Although I am hardly deserving, I would expect nothing less from you,” he said.

Kaze reached into the stiff band at his waist, which Xander had learned contained many hidden compartments, and pulled out a small tin. No ornament or marking adorned its surface. By all accounts, it looked like a simple salve, no more than a finger-width deep. The green-tinged goo smelled faintly of mint, tea, and flowers. Although not an unpleasant aroma, it was distinctly Hoshidan.

Taking a small amount on his fingers, Kaze began to work it into Xander’s shoulder, grazing delicately over the recently-closed gouge. The prince tried to keep his discomfort contained behind gritted teeth. No matter how many times he’d been injured in this war, having a fresh wound prodded at remained a disagreeable experience at best. He counted the seconds until it was over.

Taking mercy on Xander, Kaze filled the silence as he went for a second helping, “The herbs in this treatment were once used in our poisons. After years of experimentation, we found we could adjust the dosage to numb the body rather than kill with it. Combined with other medicinal herbs, it can take the pain from any injury and speed the healing process by weeks without scarring.”

“Even our most advanced magic can’t manage that,” Xander muttered. Elixirs and healing arts could save a soldier quickly, but the more rapid the treatment, the more likely scars or phantom pains would trouble the patient after it was done. “It must be labor intensive to create if the formula is so carefully guarded.”

Kaze nodded. “Indeed. The process takes decades for a container this size. The ingredients required are rare, and only our most experienced herbalists have the precision to combine them properly. A mistake would render the mixture useless or deadly to its recipient.”

Xander hissed as the salve sunk into the deepest part of his cut, “And you’re certain this batch is good?”

Kaze’s lips pursed as he tried to contain his amusement. Clearly, the ninja found Xander’s petulant temper at the healing procedure endearing, despite the prince’s embarrassment at acting so childishly. Kaze cleared his throat to school his features back to serenity, but a hint of a smile remained.

Reaching for the bandages he’d laid out, he answered, “I’m certain it’s perfect. We test our medicines thoroughly before taking them into the field. I promise the pain will fade in a minute.”

Xander grunted his belief while his shoulder was bound tightly, working the viscous mixture into every crevice. Thankfully, the pressure temporarily stopped the worst of the stinging. With any luck, the numbing agent would begin to work before he needed to change the dressing.

“How does it feel?” Kaze asked. “Tight enough?”

“It’s comfortable for now.”

“Good. And what of your leg?” Kaze checked.

The small reminder made a fierce, burning sensation flare again in Xander’s hip. It may have only been a bruise, more inconvenient than potentially deadly, but he was not looking forward to finding a sleeping position tonight. Being tossed like a ragdoll onto solid stone was hardly recommended for one’s comfort.

“It’s my hip,” Xander explained. He tapped a finger lightly over the worst of the pain. “I’ve been nursing a small bruise there that was aggravated during the fight tonight.”

“...that spear…” Kaze murmured under his breath, already pulling back the hem of Xander’s breeches. He gasped when he saw what lay beneath.

Red, purple, and blue, the colors of a Nohrian sunset, sprawled across the entire length of the prince’s hip, curling around to cup his back.This wasn’t the aftermath of a bad parry or even a tumble off a horse. It looked as though he’d fallen from a roof and taken the brunt of the landing with the side of his body.

Xander experienced slight satisfaction that it looked as excruciating as it felt. Even though proving toughness by the state of one’s skin was the juvenile mindset of young knights, he found it hard to shake completely. Battle scars meant you had survived. There was no greater pride as a Nohrian.

“It’s a miracle you were able to walk to the tent,” Kaze marveled, already digging back into the salve so he could spread a thin layer across that wide expanse of damaged skin.

For once, Xander was relieved that it hurt. Having the nimble fingers of his friend exploring areas that hadn’t been touched by another in years had the potential for immense awkwardness. Thankfully, pain helped drown out the intimacy of Kaze’s hand stroking his hip.

Other things helped less. Like thinking about how gentle Kaze’s hands were tending to him. Or Xander’s budding realization that he was showing almost as much skin as he did at those Hoshidan-style baths.

In an attempt to focus on anything else before he had a situation on his hands, Xander said, “What do you intend to do once you’ve finished here? Do you need an escort to your tent?”

The ninja hummed noncommittally, frowning with entirely unhelpful intensity at the juncture of Xander’s thigh and pelvis. “An escort will only raise suspicions, especially if that escort is Laslow. My brother has been studying him lately.”

“Studying him?” Xander questioned and spared a glance at the tent flap where his retainer stood on the other side.

“I don’t claim to understand the workings of my brother’s mind, but I would guess to learn their similarities. After all, they are both the right hand men of their nation’s first prince. I believe Laslow’s behavior is...” Kaze’s motions stilled while he searched for the right word. “...an enigma to him.”

“As he is to many. Myself included,” Xander admitted. He shifted his back to get more comfortable, noting suddenly that he didn’t sense anything in his bandaged shoulder anymore. No itchiness or ache at all. “But he is a good retainer despite his foibles. Strong and loyal to the last.”

“So I’ve observed.”

The prince pushed on, “Then you plan to return alone when you’re done with this?”

“It bothers you,” Kaze remarked. He finally finished with Xander’s hip and moved up to smooth over the remaining bruises through the small of his back.

“I am concerned for your safety.”

A bemused smile graced Kaze’s lips and his amethyst eyes twinkled. “I assure you, Prince Xander, _I_ am more than capable of fending for myself.”

 _Unlike you_ , came the subtext when his finger pressed into a bruise hard enough to throb.

Xander scoffed, attempting to sound insulted that someone beneath his station would question his competence, though it was difficult between the painful reminder of his mistake tonight and the ninja’s playful tone, “Are you teasing me, Kaze?”

“I would never dream of it, your highness. You are a most remarkable warrior. Untouchable, as they say. My apologies if I’ve offended by implying otherwise,” the ninja replied.

The smile he still wore belied his earnest tone. Xander chuckled despite himself.

Just like that, their shared good humor chased away the gloom that had plagued this evening. The state of the army, Anankos’ tricks, Laslow’s poor mood, Xander’s injuries, Kaze’s risks. There were so many things to worry about during these dark times. And yet, for all the burdens piled upon Xander’s broad shoulders, all it took to make them disappear for a moment was the true smile of a friend.

(‘You need to make more friends, milord’ his old retainers used to tell him. He had never known why until they were gone and took his smile with them.)

When Kaze finished his work, setting more bandages and covering the prince once again, Xander rested his hand over the ninja’s. Kaze stilled, though he had already turned to leave. A ninja’s way was to disappear when a mission had been completed, but the warm fingers sheltering his own suggested there was at least one more task yet to do.

“Before you go, there is something you should know,” Xander began. His brow creased, trying to find the words and courage to speak freely. This sort of thing never came easy to him. “I have lost many close to me in my lifetime. My mother, most of my siblings, my retainers...I can feel this place filled with their ghosts, and I saw them tonight when they gave me these wounds. But that encounter has made me realize something important.

“You are my dearest friend. The only person I trust with my life besides my family and those sworn to protect me. I know you said you would be happy if you died in service to me, but I have one selfish request of you. Live. Do not make me relive that pain again so soon. The greatest service you could ever render is to spend your days at my side, washing away the strain of my station with the pleasure of your company. I admire and care for you, Kaze. Do not let this be our last goodbye.”

Kaze stared at him blankly for several breaths. In a fit of paranoia, Xander feared he had misread the situation, exposing a vulnerability in an idiotic display that would certainly be used against him.

But then Kaze smiled, kind and fond. The hand in Xander’s turned over to clasp them together. And in a movement that made his heart ache with relief, it squeezed.

“...Very well. For you, Prince Xander, I will follow any order.”


End file.
